And Only Death Shall Part Me from You
by SilverMafia
Summary: Who ever said that a married life was easy-let alone living in an arranged marriage? [Story's AU... xD]


**A/N: Luna and Noctis aren't childhood friends here. The story's somewhat AU-ish... Caught the inspiration from the song** _ **Ready to Love Again**_ **by Lady Antebellum but with a twist around the lyrics. xD And forgive me if there are LightIs fans out there. There's a slight mention of it here, only because I couldn't think of anybody else to put. xD**

 **DISCLAIMERS: I do not own any of the characters in this story. They all belong to Square-Enix. :3**

* * *

 **And Only Death Shall Part Me from You**

He didn't want her. He _never_ wanted her.

It wasn't as if it was a hard truth to live with. She had already accepted that. From the moment that their arranged marriage was announced to seal the formality of the armistice, she had known their union was borne of necessity and not willful emotion. So of course it didn't come as a surprise when she found out that he was not willing. She wouldn't go so far as to say that she shared his thoughts on the matter, but she was a noble lady; duty first before her own selfish needs, so she had complied immediately. Peace _was_ a necessity, wasn't it? Their _world_ needed it.

Her engagement and marriage to the one hundred and thirteenth heir of the Caelum dynasty had not been taken to heart with contempt. It was merely accepted. There was nothing that could be done, and she had convinced herself of the possibility of falling in love with him at the long run. Because as noble as she is, she had always believed that matrimony was at its best and purest if it was done for the sake of love.

On their wedding day, his cold disposition had been expected. He had the faraway look in his eyes, and she knew, without a doubt, that he was deep into wishful thinking. He was yearning for someone that he could not be with; yearning for a woman he couldn't marry. He was a Prince, and he had a duty to fulfill. He may be many things, but he had noble character—one that shown stark and true. His reaction then had been understandable. She supposed if she had fallen in love with a man before their marriage, she would have felt the same, but she hadn't. During the course of the grand event, he had been distant and cold.

She already knew then; knew that she didn't stand a chance against the woman who had claimed his heart so wholly. She knew then that he would reject her, and she had been perfectly okay with that. After all, she only agreed to marry him for the sake of peace between their hostile nations. She would be a respectable and noble Princess for their kingdoms; a nurturing figure and guiding light to his heir; a faithful monarch dedicated to the duties imposed upon her by her blood and her marriage; but she was never going to be a wife—a lover, a cherished companion—to the man whom their people referred to as her husband. That was part of the deal.

As their married life began, he immersed himself in his duties, paying no heed to her whatsoever. As long as she complied and worked her responsibilities as a Crown Princess and an oracle, he wouldn't utter a single word. During the nights, she would discreetly watch him sleep—drained of energy and filled with exhaustion—and she would always wish him sweet dreams. At events hosted by his father—King Regis—she had appeared as his faithful wife—his Princess, but he never acknowledged her. In the few times that he had held her hand for show, there was a never a trace of warmth in his them, nor a smudge of acceptance _or_ even a sense of camaraderie. There was only the cold and blatant rejection.

She knew from the very beginning that he would never hold any sort of attraction towards her, but in her mind, she wished he would at least see her as a friend—as a business partner in the long run, someone who could help him sort out the mess as he became their domain's future king. But no. There was only rejection and harsh denial. Perhaps to him, it was the woman he loved—the woman whom he was so enraptured with, or no one at all.

At some point in his life, fate had befallen him in the most tragic of ways. She could still remember striding into their room and finding it in a miserable state. There were splinters of wood on the floor—the tragic fate of a chair after it had been slammed forcefully against the wall, jagged shards of a fragile piece of furniture littered the ground, and amid the minor mess, there her husband sat on the edge of their bed. She had been reluctant to approach him at first, but when it seemed that his despair was appearing to be too much to bear, she had mustered up the courage to ask...

" _Prince Noctis," she spoke softly, keeping a hand braced against a post on their king-sized bed, "what seems to be the matter?" She inquired, because asking him if he was okay was out of the question. He would just retort sourly._

 _She had never seen grief and sorrow grip him so tightly before. It had him in its clutches and he was feeling the effects. His shoulders began to shake, and only then did she understand the extent of his pain. It took a lot to break him, and perhaps this was the heaviest load he could muster. She knew then; knew what he was so distraught about._

" _Did something happen to her?" She asked carefully, hesitant to lay a hand upon his shoulder._

" _She's gone to Etro's realm. That's what happened." He replied bitterly, tugging on locks of his dark hair that framed his face._

" _I'm really sorry." She started, bracing herself for the rejection that would follow when she placed her hand on top of his shoulder; a gesture of consolation and companionship._

 _She breathed a sigh of relief through her nose when he allowed the small contact._

" _You have no reason to be." He spoke calmly. "You should be happy now."_

 _She didn't answer; didn't want to fuel the fire with words spoken from emotions. This would just end in an explosive argument if not handled carefully. If Noctis wanted to play the part of a burning fire, she would be the bucket of ice water—for both their sakes._

" _What, you're not saying anything?" He asked bitterly, whirling around to look into her eyes, his irises a fiery red—indicating his rage. "Too guilty to say a word?" He scoffed and brushed her off roughly. "You must be thinking that my affections will shift to you because she's gone." He smirked smugly. "I never wanted to marry you, you know that right?" She kept her silence; just returned his gaze. Yes, she knew and she would play the martyr—for now. "Do you want to know why you'll never be a wife to me?" He asked angrily, standing up. "You're not_ her. _You will_ never _be_ her _. And I_ love her! _" He declared with such conviction that it was enough to cause the knife that was already in her heart to twist so painfully. For a moment, her mask slipped and she could feel her eyes brimming with unshed tears, but she blinked them away._

" _May I speak, my lord?" She asked him calmly, trying her best to maintain her composure._

 _She would never lash out at him verbally, like what he'd just done to her, but she would say her words—the few words that she wanted him to know. Noctis was a rather level-headed man, and perhaps he was feeling too much of sorrow to actually have the rational thought to filter the words and the angry emotions that were entering his mind. And though his accusations towards her were hardly valid or true, she would admit that it stung—and it hurt. To even consider the thought that he would actually think of her that way—as if she were a woman who merely paid attention to her own feelings, when_ she _had been the one pardoning and understanding him from the very beginning._

 _When he didn't answer, she took that as a 'yes.'_

" _Yes, I am not her. I will_ never _be her. I know you love her, and I understand the extent of your emotions towards her unfortunate passing, but you have no right as it is to accuse me of matters that have not even crossed my mind." She spoke slowly, emphasizing each word with precise clarity, enough to let it sink in. "I knew from the beginning that I would never be a wife to you. But I was hoping you would at least consider me as a friend; a comrade who would gladly shoulder the burden laid on you by your duties." She paused for a moment when he turned to face her. "That is all I ask, Prince Noctis. I was unprepared for this marriage just as much as you were, but I'm doing all I can to maintain my shred of dignity even if they married me to a man who loved another."_

" _So this is my fault?" He forced through gritted teeth. Still angry, she supposed._

 _She shook her head sadly. "I have never spoken nor implied such a thing."_

 _He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly coming back to his senses._

" _Just... Leave me alone for now..." He muttered. "_ Please. _" He stressed._

 _Sensing he needed time to think and organize his thoughts, she silently turned her back on him and left their room._

They had attended a funeral in the woman's honor, and she had shown up as Noctis' seemingly faithful wife; offering condolences and the like. After the mourning event, life had returned to its usual daily pattern, but Noctis was never the same. If he had been cold and aloof to her before, the treatment only got worse. Before this whole incident, he had only ever looked at her blankly, but after the funeral, he had looked upon her with an uncertain frown marring his face.

She knew the reason for that, but didn't really fully understand why. She had tried her best and ignored him; ignored the resentment radiating off of him. He was strung too tightly. One wrong tweak and he could snap, and she knew she had best be prepared for that—should she be at the receiving end of it.

But the disappointment and sadness that had already been in her heart multiplied tenfold after she had overheard a conversation he had with his friends.

" _Why not give the both of you a chance? She is technically your wife."_

" _Yeah, Noct. She's a decent lady, and an honorable one. Giver her some credit."_

" _She_ is _an honorable and decent noble lady—no arguments there. It's just..."_

" _You can't let go..." A sigh. "Noct, she's gone. And she's never coming back."_

" _But that doesn't change anything. I loved Claire... I still do."_

" _No doubt about it. But, you gotta focus on what's important or you'll lose what's perfectly for you."_

" _She_ was _important to me. I'll never forget her, but I'm focusing on helping my father rule the kingdoms as much as I can."_

" _That is why you have a wife to aid you in your responsibilities. Have the decency to act properly towards Lady Lunafreya, at least."_

" _I'm trying. I'm polite, I'm decent, I never harassed her in anyway, I don't slap her around—"_

" _But you're indifferent towards her."_

" _She makes it so hard. You guys don't know how it feels to wake up to a stranger every morning. I look at her and wish it's Claire. When we got married that day, Claire was the only thing I could think about."_

" _Yeah, yeah, we get it. Arranged marriages are tragic, blah blah. But you're missing the point, buddy. Your arguments would have been on-point if Claire were still alive, but she's gone now, Noct. You don't have an excuse. Just let her go."_

" _Easy for_ you _to say._ You're _not the one who got into an arranged marriage. Every time I see her, all I see is how my life would have turned out if she had been Claire. You ask me why I can't seem to treat her as my wife as much as I'm forcing myself to? Because every time I see her, I see the life that I should have had—could have_ had _with Claire. And... Lunafreya's just not_ her. _I can't love her... Because I loved Claire first. And Claire—she... She took me with her when she had gone. If...if I married Claire, maybe she'd still be here. Maybe she hadn't died."_

The sorrow, the loneliness, the pain was evident in his voice. He was hurting. But he had hurt her more. Regret had been thrown into her turmoil of emotions. She did not want to cry, and she held her tears back by sheer force of will alone. She was strong. She wanted to convince herself that she was an open-minded woman. Noctis didn't— _couldn't_ —love her. She had known that from the start, but why did it hurt? To hear the words straight from him—with a dose of conviction and rejection, why did it hurt so much?

Perhaps it had been an irrational emotion, but she had felt neglected and alone at that moment. She had felt unwanted, undesirable. She had felt like she wasn't needed. She had felt like she was worthless. She had felt such outright and brutal rejection. And it dawned on her that she was really alone; alone in the face of all her misery with no one to call 'friend.' It had been in times like that when she had wished to be somewhere— _anywhere_ but in the presence of the Crown Prince who was too caught up in his own grief towards the woman he had lost forever.

She had been on her way to an appointment, but after what she'd overheard, she had it canceled. She had rushed into a vacant bedroom in the palace and locked herself in, and poured her grief and her broken heart out into a flood of tears that had seemed unstoppable. She had kept pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, willing the tears to stop, nearly crushing her eyeballs at the force.

She was angry, she was disappointed, she was frustrated, she felt hopeless. And miserable—in every sense of the word.

She had accepted Noctis' unwillingness from the start, but to hear him say such words had been a crushing blow to her suddenly fragile heart. Perhaps it was not just her heart that had been injured at the onslaught. Perhaps he had stepped on her pride and self-respect as well. He had torn her sense of dignity to shreds whenever he mentioned _her_ name.

Claire... Claire this, and Claire that.

She couldn't blame him. He was truly madly deeply in love with the deceased woman, and she could understand the depth of his feelings to a point, but she couldn't help herself from feeling so hurt and overwhelmed with an onslaught of negative emotions. For a moment there, she had _wanted_ to know who this Claire was; to know why Noctis was so smitten with her. She felt inferior compared to the other woman; felt naked and bare. She was sure Claire was a wonderful person (Noctis wouldn't have fallen for her if it were otherwise), but what did that make her then?

She didn't have an answer to that. She had tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to spill out of her throat, but they came out in a gushing torrent anyway. It had been wave after wave of pain and emptiness, echoing in her suddenly hollow chest. She had desperately tried to control her breathing as she pressed a fist to her sternum, but her sobs tore through her body anyway.

Sniffling, she wiped her tears harshly with the front of her wrist, smearing them across her cheeks. She just had to get that out, had to let all the heartache out. Why had she reacted in such a way? What had triggered her response?

The answer to her own self-imposed questions only embedded the knife stuck to her already bleeding heart deeper. She inhaled wheezily at the realization that would have knocked her off her feet. There had been a reason why she had cried like that; why she had so much sorrow bottled up and poured out. It had been because she had fallen in love.

And nothing hurt more than unrequited love...

vVvVv

Claire had been a fiery female from the start. That's what he adored most about her. She was so headstrong, never bending to anyone else's ideals as long as she knew she was right. She never let anyone put her under his feet. She was a challenge; a conquest. It had been a difficult feat to get her to even notice him in the first place, but he had managed, and she had returned his affection. In a span of a few months, he had seen the real Claire—the one behind the fierce and unattainable mask that she wore. And the real her had been nothing short of beautiful; truly a sight to behold.

She had opened up to him and gave him her heart; her utmost trust. They had been happy. He had been content with how his life was turning out. He had gotten comfortable with his friends, with the woman who owned his heart, but all that came to a screeching halt at the mention of an arranged engagement. He could remember that day. It had been announced in the throne room and he had felt his heart drop to his stomach as his eyes sought out the very same blazing blue ones.

Claire's gaze met his across the room, and he had seen the betrayal and frustration in her eyes. She couldn't believe it. He had not fathomed the idea either. He had a betrothed. But if Claire felt any sort of disappointment or despair at that idea, she had not shown it, because she had a strong sense of duty—a trait they both shared. That had been the reason why he had conceded to the engagement instead of fighting against it. Perhaps in the back of his mind, he had known that his relationship with Claire would end at some point, if the Council forced him into marrying a noble lady, and that they did.

Of course he wanted to marry Claire. Of course he wanted a whole life with her. But Fate had other plans and he was more than mildly annoyed. When he had spoken to her about it, Claire had been lenient and insisted he should follow through with whatever the monarchy thought best. It had been for the good of everybody after all, and he was not about to argue against that. If marrying a noble lady was the only way to prevent a war—that Claire would undoubtedly participate in—from starting, he would gladly shoulder the burden of a broken heart just to keep his real beloved safe.

On the day that he was to meet his betrothed, the Crown Prince had been told to ready himself. And when he finally saw his fiancee face to face, he had tried hard to stop himself from guffawing out loud at the predictability of it all. Of course they would choose a meek and submissive woman. Of course they made sure she would be blonde and blue-eyed and in every way ordinary. Of course they would deem this oracle fit to marry the heir to the throne of Lucis. Of course it had to be Lunafreya Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae.

His friends had been unsure of what to make of the engagement, and their wedding day was immediately set. In the heat of the preparations, he had not been granted a chance to see the woman he loved again, but he knew she had been there, hovering and watching. On the day of matrimony, he had watched Lunafreya walk down the aisle in a luminescent wedding gown that was as ethereal and sober as her face. For a fleeting moment, he had pictured Claire walking towards him in that aisle, beaming that perfect smile that she usually reserved just for him. How perfect that would have been.

He wasn't naive or ignorant to the fact that his bride had managed to read the expressions playing across his face. Perhaps he had not given her enough credit. Lunafreya was incredibly observant. On their wedding night, a consummation of their union hadn't happened. Why would it? He thought it wrong to think of Claire while he was doing another woman. A noble lady such as Lunafreya did not deserve that and neither did Claire. He _wanted_ to be with Claire. He reserved himself for _her_ —not for Lunafreya. Desperate times had always called for desperate measures, and if the time came when their nation would demand an heir and he would have to resort to adoption, he would do it.

To say the least, his married life had been anything but happy—forced to live in the palace doing numerous duties, he felt like a caged individual. He couldn't even enjoy his evenings. His life, as he knew it, had become terribly miserable. He had often fell asleep on their bed with thoughts of the woman he loved, and he had always woken up each day to see the face of a total stranger. But that was how arranged marriages work, didn't they? You never married for love. You married for necessity, and he hated his life at that moment—hated the fact that he was a Crown Prince.

He had not seen Claire for a span of many months, so he could only imagine his own shock and surprise when word got out that she had died. The devastation had been staggering and he couldn't find it in himself to keep his footing stable. It was almost as if he had lost his balance—lost the very core and essence of his world. He had married a woman he hardly knew in the name of peace and preventing war just to keep Claire alive, and yet...she had left him; in the cruelest manner possible. The frustration and the wrath that had gripped his chest overtook him. He found himself stalking to their—his and his wife's—bedroom, and he had grabbed the first thing his fingers closed in on. It had been a chair and he felt a sense of pathetically placed satisfaction when he had watched it break into pieces under the force of his rage and abuse. Other pieces of furniture had fallen into his unforgiving hands, and in the end, he had slumped down on their mattress, suddenly weak and befuddled.

It had been a hard truth to accept. Claire couldn't have been gone. It could have been a joke. But it hadn't been. He had sensed another presence in the room at that moment. He had known who it was, but he didn't care to acknowledge her. She wouldn't understand—she could never, not when she had never been in love. She hesitantly placed an unsure hand upon his shoulder, and he hadn't shrugged her off. It seemed too brash and impolite, so he stayed himself despite the fact that he wanted to lash out at her.

The words that had escaped his mouth afterwards had not been preconceived—nor were they rational. It had been a product of his emotional outburst and he had regretted his words instantly after he had spoken them. He had seen the kind of reaction he had gotten out of her after that; the hurt in her eyes had been obvious for a second before it dissipated completely. Her violet-blue eyes hardened and she responded as calmly as possible—level-headed—that he felt ashamed of himself at that very instant.

It took a lot to make him break, and he supposed Claire's passing had been the breaking point, but he had to admit that even _he_ considered his words brash and inappropriate—highly thoughtless and directly offensive. Still, he had asked her as politely as he could to leave him alone for the time being.

He had gone to Claire's funeral, which Lunafreya had gone to with him. She had acted like the proper wife as was expected of her, offering condolences and such. He had been aware of the constant way she was watching him with curious yet perceptive eyes. Maybe she had seen the way he longingly gazed upon Claire's grave. Perhaps she had seen the way his shoulders slumped in despair, but he didn't care. Better not to leave second thoughts and unnecessary assumptions. He loved the woman that had just left them, and he wasn't ashamed to profess that to his own wife. It had been the truth anyway—the bloody truth.

More days and weeks had passed by since Claire's funeral, and he had noticed by then that he was always strung too tightly. He had better control of his temper before, but it seemed that the grip he had on it had been gradually slipping. Lunafreya wasn't doing anything that got into his nerves. For the most part, his wife left him be. They only met once in a regular day and that was in the wee hours of dinner time. He had a constant habit of sleeping late ever since he got married, just to make sure that his wife was sound asleep when he entered the room.

His uptight bearing had not escaped the watchful eyes of his friends though. They had been around the castle doing their respective duties, but he had also noticed that they were keeping a close eye on him—Ignis in particular. He should have known better when they had cornered him in a room and the all too familiar boy chat began. He wasn't too particular about talking about his love life, so he had been a little uneasy when of his friends brought it up. Mainly, their discussion revolved around his feelings for both women—for Claire _and_ Lunafreya.

His friends had a point, but they knew as well as he did that it was difficult for him. His first true love had been Claire. He had _fallen_ for her. It wasn't easy to disregard all those cherished moments just for the sake of a wife he rarely knew and paid attention to. And if anything else, he had known that he misinterpreted his wife too. Lunafreya may have seemed like a damsel in distress at first sight—too fragile with no sign of a backbone, but in these past few months, he had come to realize that she wasn't at all like that. Her defenseless mask was just that—a facade meant to fool anyone into underestimating her. He had been tricked into believing she was merely a fragile flower. He had seen how headstrong and intelligent she was; too perceptive and incredibly observant. In the rare moments when she had joined Council meetings because she had been needed, he had seen how persuasive and manipulative her words could be; swaying the opposing forces to his side without complaints.

She was a well-versed politician and an effective communicator. He understood then that it had been one of the reasons why she had been chosen as his bride, because she was capable indeed. He knew there was more to her than that, and while he may have cared to find out what they were in other circumstances, he didn't give a damn now.

That same night, he arrived in their bed room at the exact same time as she did. It had always been awkward, but he tried to ignore the atmosphere that had been prevalent, until he had noticed something odd...

" _What happened to you?" He asked coldly, referring to her red and puffy eyes and her flustered cheeks._

 _She shook her head. "It is nothing, my lord. Just an allergic reaction." She sneezed, immediately putting a tissue to her nose as she excused herself._

 _He wasn't fooled. That wasn't an allergic reaction. She had been crying. And while he had figured she was different from other women, she was just like them too—always pretending they were all right when they really weren't. Claire hadn't been like that though. She spoke her mind fearlessly; never bothering to hide what she felt inside. He supposed it wasn't his business to pry into her affairs—just like she never pried into his, so he shrugged her 'allergic reaction' excuse off and headed for their bathroom to ready himself for bed. He would deal with the awkwardness head-on tonight. He was curious to know what she had been crying about._

 _Later, when the lights were out and he had his back to her as he feigned sleep, his senses were on red alert as his eyes closed. She was shifting around rather restlessly tonight, tossing and turning occasionally. But he knew she was awake. Someone who was asleep didn't make that much movement, and he_ knew _how his own wife slept. Lunafreya hardly moved, but she was shifting about now. Something was indeed wrong._

 _A weight left the bed and he knew she had left. He was aware of a door being quietly opened and then closed, and she was gone..._

He had followed her that night, and found her alone. She had been sitting on the marble floor of a balcony that overlooked the royal palace entrance. The city lights were visible from that spot, but it had seemed she wasn't interested in the view anyway. She sat cross-legged on the floor with her back to the threshold of the balcony. He had stuck close to the shadows and watched her quietly from his point of view. And from that angle, he could see her turning an object around and around in her hand. It had been her engagement ring. It was nothing fancy; just plain silver with her family name engraved on it. He figured then that she didn't deserve a ring with an expensive gem; mainly because he had reserved that kind of ring for Claire.

He heard her sniffle and he had seen her drag the back of her hand across her eyes, vainly trying to dry her cheeks. He watched as she stood up and left the ring on the ledge of the balcony. Again, he had watched as she turned and walked away. For some reason, he had known that she wasn't going to return to their bedroom, and since he figured he had seen what needed to see, he returned to bed when she was gone from sight.

The following morning though, at breakfast...

" _You followed me to the balcony last night." She spoke softly, taking a sip from her cup of tea._

" _You left this at the ledge." He replied, not even bothering to hide as he placed a silver ring on the table. "Too deep in your thoughts?" He asked, arching an eyebrow at her, but not really expecting an answer as he bit into his ham and egg sandwich._

" _Careless of me." She shook her head and took the ring. "Thank you for returning it, Prince Noctis." She nodded at him, meeting his gaze with eyes of steel._

" _Of course." He agreed. "It's your engagement ring." One she_ intentionally _left, he might add._

They had danced around each other; sizing up the other, trying to gauge potential and find weakness. There had been a reason for that interlude that morning. It had been the calm before the storm. A few days after that, he hadn't spoken to her—save for a few exchange of pleasantries, and then one day, he supposed they needed to discuss things.

Their little feud had gone on long enough. Her words from earlier on had replayed in his mind countless of times then. She had known that she would never be his wife—would never be special to him, but she _had_ mentioned something about settling as friends and business partners; a formidable duo in politics. In the past few days, he figured he could live with that; could live knowing that he had a greater chance of succeeding as future King with such an efficient and intellectually marvelous Queen reigning at his side. While he had misjudged her before, he had seen her abilities for what they truly were now; not fully—not yet, but he was determined...

" _We need to talk." He approached her one time, after a meeting had been adjourned._

" _What is the matter in need of discussion, my lord?" She asked him politely, keeping her mask of naivety on as they passed the hallways._

" _I apologize for my brash treatment towards you since our wedding. You don't deserve that." He offered, keeping his gaze locked ahead of him. "I remember what you told me about being friends—business partners at the very least."_

" _And?" She prodded him to continue, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye._

" _Let's start over?" He asked hesitantly as he stopped walking to face her._

 _Her expression was neutral, betraying nothing, carefully composed. "I suppose that is a more viable option."_

 _He nodded once in agreement and outstretched a hand. "Noctis Lucis Caelum." He hesitated before he added it hastily. "Call me 'Noct.'"_

 _Her expression was still indecipherable as she returned his seemingly friendly gesture. She gripped his hand in hers professionally, returning the handshake with a smile that didn't reach her eyes._

" _Lunafreya Nox Fleuret." She nodded once. "You may call me 'Luna.'"_

" _A pleasure to meet you, Princess."_

" _Likewise, your Highness."_

That had only been the beginning of a budding sense of camaraderie between them. He would admit that adjusting to it had been difficult at first, but soon he had found himself easily striking up a conversation with her—casual or formal. She smiled at him too, even if it was obviously forced. He didn't push her. He figured he didn't have the right to. They were trying to be civil, and he realized that he would have to make up for all those months when he had treated her unkindly. Often, he had resorted to being polite to her, offering and suggesting, complimenting and advising.

Everyone had taken notice of the changes—his father and his friends in particular. Ignis had approved and so did Gladio and Prompto. The King had been glad to see that his son was finally getting along with his wife—albeit too sluggishly.

If he was going to be completely honest with himself, he would say that he hardly thought of her as a wife. He saw her as a friend lately; a good and trusting friend to whom he could confide all his political secrets too. She shared his opinions at one point and they even saw each other more. His heavy feelings towards her were dissipating and every night before they went to bed, he would greet her good night, and she would do the same.

At one time, a friend of hers from Tenebrae came to visit. As a Prince, he had watched as she welcomed her guest with open arms and a bright blinding smile—a genuine one; something he never received from her even if they were close acquaintances at that point. The usual pleasantries had been exchanged. She introduced him as her husband to her best friend, and the like. Her friend had stayed for a few days, and being the curious opportunist that he was, he snagged that chance to watch his wife candidly. And she _never_ acted that way around him—or anyone in Lucis for that matter. She never associated so openly with any of them. In her best friend's short time visiting, he knew then that he had seen the _real_ Lunafreya—the one that did not hide behind the facade of a mature and well-versed politician. She had been positively glowing as she interacted with the other girl. At one point, one of his friends had seen him staring...

" _Never seen her like that before, have you?"_

" _No." He shook his head._

 _Prompto whistled as they both watched the women converse so animatedly with each other and start pegging things at the other a minute later. "She sure doesn't act her age. Pretty girlish." He grinned. "Cute... I like that."_

 _He frowned at Prompto's comment. "You're not supposed to be ogling at my wife." He hissed, slapping the blonde's shoulder._

 _Prompto sputtered indignantly. "I was admiring." He retorted. "There's a difference."_

 _The Prince rolled his eyes. "Semantics."_

" _Possessive, aren't we?" Prompto prodded him with an annoying finger. "She growing on you?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively._

 _The Crown Prince didn't answer..._

Perhaps she had. Perhaps she _had_ grown on him for the past few months and especially when he had seen her interact with her friend. She had this unmistakable girlish charm around her that he found oddly attractive—captivating even. Recently after that, he had spied her practicing with her rapier in the palace's training room. It had been as if more and more of Luna's personality was being revealed to him the more he sought to puzzle her out—to know her, to seek her true personality. He had watched with complete fascination as she wielded her weapon well; as if the sword were an extension of her arm and not just a mere tool for battle.

She had slashed and whipped at the air with steady and precise strikes, her feet dancing across the mats laid out on the training ground. Her body twirled and swayed in a deadly dance, the rapier singing through the air as she slashed and jabbed at imaginary opponents. A light sheen of sweat covered her ethereal face and her neck. It stained the sleeveless neckline of her sportswear just as her loosely done braid came undone gradually as her strikes continued.

He had not known why, but it strangely reminded him of an angel in battle. Was he captivated with her? Yes he was. Was he in awe of her? He certainly was. Was he utterly smitten with her? He didn't have a doubt. Was he falling for her? Maybe he was.

" _But what about Claire?" He asked hesitantly, succumbing to the advice of his friends._

 _He loved her then, and he loved her still, even if his heart was gradually teetering in the balance of where to lean to. A part of him was beginning to yearn for the woman that was his wife, and yet half of him still clung to the woman that had been—to the woman who had taught him what love was._

 _Before anyone could utter a word, Prompto spoke up._

" _I hate to break it to you, Noct, and no offense, but she's gone from this world." The blonde declared. "Honestly, if her ghost were here right now, I'm positive she won't hold anything against you. Claire's pretty unselfish and hell, you know she'd play the martyr, just as Luna would."_

 _Gladiolus nodded in agreement, arms folded across his chest. "Go for it, Noct... Whatever your gut's telling you."_

" _You are indeed fortunate to have two women care about you so much, Highness." Ignis stated. "You have been quite a load on their shoulders."_

 _The Prince hissed, but he supposed his friends were right._

For so long, he _had_ been unfair in his treatments with Luna during the start, and he had seen the enduring and understanding side of her. He had witnessed how humble she had been, how willingly she had sacrificed her feelings and her selfish needs for his own. He was just too prideful to acknowledge it at that time, and too distraught with Claire's passing—too caught up in the life that he could have lived with her without realizing that a whole life was ahead of him with someone who cared about him just as much as Claire did. He didn't like comparing the two, because they were both different, yet they were both special to him.

At one point during the night, he found himself staring at the blonde woman lying across him on their bed, curled up protectively around herself as she slept soundly. A part of him longed to run his fingers across the contours of her face; to touch and appreciate her beauty like he'd never done before. His hand itched to do just that, but he held himself back, contenting himself by just staring at her sleeping form. Her entire figure was being highlighted by the silvery glow of the moon shining through their window as she slept on beneath its light. His moon goddess.

And he knew then... Knew that he had been slowly falling in love with her. Her that was the celestial being that governed his dark night sky.

vVvVv

She sighed as she walked the hallways of the palace that led to their bedroom. It was getting late and she needed to catch up on sleep. She and Noctis had been up late for the past few nights, organizing and helping his father sort out the remaining knots for the stately visits happening in under one week. She was stressed and tired, utterly drained. She popped her neck to the side once before checking her wrist watch.

It was close to midnight already. Only a few more minutes and it was officially their first wedding anniversary. It was a milestone in a couple's life, but not in her married life. Her husband felt nothing for her—nothing but friendship and political camaraderie. Perhaps she shouldn't expect much from him. His heart would forever be Claire's.

Time flew so fast she hadn't even realized it was a year already. A year of adjustments and petty feuds. At some point, she had been glad that he had decided to accept her offer of friendship. The awkwardness between them was gone now, and if she would go so far as to lie to herself, maybe she could even say that her feelings for him were nonexistent. But it was there, flashing brightly in her mind's eye. She loved him, but he would never love her.

That had been cruel and hard to accept, but she got around to getting used to it eventually. She just hoped that one day, her mind would find the sense to stop torturing her with feelings that would never be returned. But perhaps she should be happy. She had agreed to this marriage for peace, and peace they did attain. Her sacrifice was worth it, and the people were grateful. It was all the reward that she needed. Heck, maybe even her husband could agree.

She approached the double doors to their room softly, presuming that the Prince was already dozing beneath the warmth of the covers. Opening the door, a crack, she slowly slipped through, her back turned to the grand bed room. When she finally whirled around though, it took everything she had within her to not gasp out in shock like a lady caught in her lingerie. The room looked grand before, but the decor it housed now was nothing short of extravagant and fancy.

Everything was bathed in the warm light of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting parts of the room in shadow. There was a table in the middle of the room with covered dishes already set on top and a bottle of wine just waiting to be opened. Blood red rose petals littered the floor _and_ the bed...and the room was eerily quiet. The only thing missing was music and the scene would have jumped straight out of a trashy romance novel. No offense to the perpetrator, but she found it quite cheesy.

Scanning the room for a specific someone, her eyes fell on the black clad figure blending in perfectly with the black suede couch situated a couple of meters away from the bed. He appeared nonchalant, one leg resting on top of the opposite knee as he haplessly toyed with a flower in his hand, staring at it rather intently that he just made himself look awkward.

"What's all this?" She asked nonchalantly, gesturing to the decor.

The Prince looked up from his involuntary brooding session. "You don't like it?" He asked, sounding a bit off.

"Well it's quite stunning, but...honestly, what's all this for, and who did it?" She asked, approaching him as she picked a rose petal off of the sheets laid out on the bed. The bed sheets were replaced too; replaced with an oddly entrancing mix of black on black.

The rose petals scattered on the bed just looked like drops of blood. Come to think of it, the entire room gave off a tragic vampire romance sort of vibe. She had an idea what this entire thing was, but she wanted to hear from her husband first.

"It's our first wedding anniversary so I thought I'd make it up to you after all those months of..." He broke off and gave her an imploring gaze, willing her to understand and she did.

She managed a wane smile at that. Though her heart began to flutter with hope, her brain quashed its hopes down. No need to get so worked up over nothing. They were just on board the sympathy train.

"It's rather thoughtful, Prince Noctis." She agreed, complimenting his choice of colors in the room—oddly dark and sexy; like the man standing before her.

"Happy first wedding anniversary, Princess." He greeted her in a soft voice as he gently reached out and tucked the flower he had been holding behind her ear.

He allowed his fingers to linger for a moment, intentionally brushing her cheek with the softest touch imaginable for someone like him. He produced another moon flower from somewhere in his clothing and gently nudged it into her hand with his fingers. Her own responded accordingly, sliding across his as she accepted the tiny token all the while gazing into his blazing blue eyes.

"You did this." She murmured softly, her breath hitching from the contact of his skin on hers. It was nothing like before.

Instead of the cold and harshness that she was so used to, his touch tonight was filled with so much warmth and tenderness, as if he were touching something so utterly precious and fragile that he was too afraid to break it. She didn't push him away even as his hand cupped her cheek and he rubbed his thumb across the flustering flesh beneath.

"Prince Noct—" She started but he cut her off when he leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed in an imploring gesture.

His thumb continued to stroke her cheek as he spoke, breathing his words into her skin.

"Will you give me a second chance?" He whispered against her lips as his fingers brushed her jawline.

At those words, she felt something inside her break, something inside her being completely ripped apart. She felt the tears spring into her eyes unbidden as she remembered his words from before; how those words had torn her apart and created a hole in her chest; how those words had left her vulnerable and exposed.

"— _Because every time I see her, I see the life that I should have had—could have_ had _with Claire. And... Lunafreya's just not_ her. _I can't love her... Because I loved Claire first..."_

Her tears streaked down her cheeks in slow rivulets and she carefully pulled away from his touch, ignoring the wet trail upon her face, pretending it wasn't there. She inhaled sharply, gripping the moon flower tightly in one hand.

"What about her?" She whispered an inquiry through her shaky voice. "Don't you love her?"

The look in his eyes spoke of a loss that he still mourned yet glittering with something else that she couldn't name. She bit the inside of her cheek before speaking again.

"I- I'm sorry that I'll never be good enough for you, Prince Noctis." She spoke through a tear soaked voice. "I'm not Claire." She declared as steadily as she could and swallowed thickly. "I never will be." She sobbed and moved to turn around, but his hand shot out and gripped her elbow.

"I never meant to make you feel rejected." He spoke through a slightly wavering voice laced with desperation. She had to understand; had to know that he loved her now, and no one else. It had taken him a while, but he had reached it, and that was what mattered. "I... I was too caught up in my grief without even pausing to think." He explained, hesitantly coming closer just to wrap his arms around her. "I was selfish and too self-centered, not even realizing that I wasn't the only one feeling the effects of a preconceived engagement." He leaned his forehead against the back of her neck. "You sacrificed so much that it even cost you your happiness. I wouldn't wish that on anyone—let alone you."

He inhaled sharply and whirled her around so she was facing him instead. He wrapped his arms around her again and held her securely to his strong and steady form. He could feel her burying her head into his chest, trying to stifle the tears that threatened to fall.

"You were courageous, honorable, stronger, and more noble than I could have been." He spoke softly, placing his lips close to her ear so she could absorb every word and commit it to memory. "They could not have chosen a worthier bride and future Queen for me. You're beautiful, you're perfect, you're wanted." He murmured, running his fingers through her hair of spun gold. "You're needed. You're worth it."

He held her more firmly as he slipped a hand beneath her chin to tilt her head up so he could gaze into her tear-streaked face and marvel at the beauty that he failed to see before.

"You're my princess, my future queen." He wiped away her tears with the back of his hand, brushing his knuckles tenderly along her smooth cheek. "My best political adviser, my most trusted confidant." He placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. "My partner." A kiss on her cheek. "My lover." A kiss on her forehead. "My beloved wife."

Bottom lip trembling from the raw emotion in his voice, she merely succumbed to the sweet taste of bliss when his lips found hers. All of the heartache had been worth it; it was worth it for this one moment. Her lips trembled beneath his and his hands went up and cupped both of her cheeks, sharing with her a kiss that was meant to be shared for a long time now. He slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her deeply; filling every empty void in her heart with the warmth of his affection and his deep seated commitment.

This kiss was a vow, a promise, the real one exchanged silently through a wordless display of overpowering love.

Noctis pulled away, gazing into her fathomless eyes with so much remorse.

"Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me even if I do not deserve it?" He begged her in a whisper, brushing his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips

"Forgiven and forgotten, my Dark Prince." She whispered as she kissed his chin and ran her fingers through his dark locks, savoring the feel of them on her skin.

She smiled at him then; smiled in a manner he hadn't seen her do before. He returned the gesture before he withdrew his hand from her skin at that moment and dug into the confines of his pocket. She watched curiously as he pulled out a small box covered entirely in black velvet. She had a vague clue about what it actually was and though her prediction was correct, the slight pleasurable clench of her heart at his thoughtfulness was a welcomed feeling.

He pried the box open and took out the black and silver ring engraved with his initials and hers.

"Wear it as a symbol of my commitment," he began, quoting whatever ministers say in weddings and adding his own personal touch, "that I'll have you and I'll hold you, that no one and nothing but death would have the power to tear me away from you." He finished, slipping the piece of jewelry into her ring finger.

She watched the way the ring gleamed against the warm light, bathing the room in a glow. She slowly brought a finger up to trace the letters engraved on the hardened silver, and the tiny black gems that made up the lines of each character. She traced her own name, ran a finger over the 'L,' the 'N,' the 'F,' and the 'C.' The final one that marked a start in her new life; the brand new start that declared her as his wife—the flesh of his flesh, and the bone of his bone.

At those words, the next ones that she had in her tongue could not be helped. They tumbled out...

"I love you." She whispered, reaching up to press his lips to hers again.

"I love you too." He replied, complying with her wish so willingly.

Other plans for their evening could wait. He had a matrimonial union to consummate with his wife...

* * *

 **A/N: Title's weird. The entire story screams wedding theme! xD Anyways, I hope you enjoyed that. Please do leave a review. It is very well appreciated. :3 Thank you for reading! :D**


End file.
